


mouth full of white lies

by orphan_account



Series: my youth is yours [2]
Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: M/M, not an established relationship just yet but it's cute, yay a sequel of some sorts!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-07 10:50:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4260477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“is this your way of courting me? because you’re not holding a boom box over your head, which is a major disappointment.”<br/>“fuck you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	mouth full of white lies

**Author's Note:**

> hey i wrote a sequel (kind of) to that one thing i posted last week i think? ANYWAYS it has utterly no meaning like the other shit i write but i hope ya enjoy pointless bubblegum fluff because i do ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ
> 
> a very vague mentioning of abuse again! (just one or two sentences but be careful if you need to be)  
> title is from halsey's ghost bc goddamn she's bae af

Three missed calls.

Tyler glares at the _extremely_ bright screen of his phone, his brain too blurry with sleep to really form any feelings other than drowsiness and a slight touch of anger. He leans over to the best of his ability, nearly falling out of his own bed in the process, to read the name that accompanied the missed calls – which was Josh, no surprise there – as well as the time. He was bitter at the fact that it was three twenty-five in the damned morning, but there wasn’t much time to stew in his own unhappiness when a text message appeared on his screen.

From: **Josh** , 3:25 AM

_answer ur fucking phone tyler_

His phone buzzes, again, lighting up on his nightstand, signaling another call coming through. He picks it up and swipes his finger over the screen, holding it to his ear. The only thing that comes to his sleep-addled brain is an annoyed, “What?”

“Tyler, open your window before I shatter it,” Josh says immediately, and Tyler’s confused at the fact that apparently, Josh is standing outside in his backyard. “ _Please_ ,” Josh adds as an afterthought, before the line goes completely dead as he presses the ‘end call’ button. Tyler lets out a half-angry, half-disappointed groan that his sleep has been disrupted, but he figures that whatever is going on in Josh’s world must be pretty serious for him to have to end up all the way over here, outside of his window.

He squirms out of his bed, legs wrapped up in the blankets, dropping his phone on the floor among piles of clothes that he has yet to wash and put away, before yanking his curtains to the side and unlocking his window, dragging it upwards. He can see the faint outline of his best friend – although he’s a little hesitant to call him that, in the current moment – standing there in the middle of the dew-wet grass, staring up at him, arms crossed against his chest as he bounces from foot to foot, undoubtedly cold as he’s only wearing a pair of basketball shorts and a grey t-shirt.

“Is this your way of courting me?” Tyler dangerously sticks all of his bare upper body outside to lean himself out of the window with his hipbones rested precariously on the sill before calling out, as quiet as possible to avoid waking up any member of his family but loud enough so that Josh could hear him where he stood down below. It sends a jolt of brief, panicked anxiety throughout Josh’s chest – god, what if he _fell_? How on earth would he explain to Tyler’s mother and father that their beloved son was gravely injured because Josh was trying to convince him to let him up into his bedroom at three in the morning? “Because you’re not holding a boom box over your head, which is a major disappointment.”

“Fuck you,” came his cheery reply a second after, and Tyler swears that he could see Josh roll his eyes, even with how far away as he is. His voice is joined by a vague and possibly obscene gesture of his hand, but Tyler’s got a good guess of what it was, and he’s entirely too tempted to close the window on Josh before rolling back into bed.

“Get up here before I change my mind,” he says instead, and takes to watching as Josh scales the ladder propped up next to his window. His father had left it there, once, after doing repairs on the roof, and there it had stayed; mighty convenient for sneaking Josh in and out of his room, if you asked him, but he didn’t dare tempt fate. He steps back for a minute, allowing Josh to swing his legs into his room, stopping him from moving with his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.

“He kicked me out for the night,” Josh forces himself to explain at Tyler’s expression, giving off a glare of his own, before pushing Tyler away from him with his foot, pulling himself all the way inside the room. He turns to close the window behind himself, mumbling, “It was either sleep on the porch in the freezing cold or come here. You can guess which one I picked.”

Tyler stares at his back, dumbly, because that’s really not what he’d expected to hear. He brings his hands up to his face and rubs his closed fists against his eyelids with a loud sigh. “Ugh,” he groans in response, not quite comprehensive enough to deal with the situation, unsure of what exactly would be proper to say to attempt to make amends. After a brief period of exasperation at the expense of Josh’s awful family life and a tired yawn, he finds it within himself to ask, “Are you okay?”

“What do you think?” Josh responds, tone clipped and bitter, gazing out the window at the vast expanse of the stars in the sky before drawing the curtains to a close. He pulls his muddy shoes off and flops ungracefully down onto Tyler’s mattress, burying himself deep under the pillows and blankets with a few grunts, shifting his position to hold his arms open to gesture for Tyler.

“You should be thankful it’s a Saturday,” Tyler points out, offhandedly, crossing his arms and fixing Josh with a stern look even though he knows it’s not Josh’s fault. It’s never Josh’s fault, but he has to get his jumbled emotions out, somehow. He’s still a little too sleepy to deal with anything, and his mouth continues to move before he’s entirely aware he’s speaking. “And that Zack is off at his friend’s house. This would’ve been miserable with him breathing down my neck.”

Josh ignores him, letting out a loud whine in response, grasping at the empty air with his hands before huffing, “Come cuddle me.”

Tyler nearly denies, because they should really talk about Josh’s family life and his situation, the increasingly alarming purple bruises showing up in closer and closer proximity to his face. He feels the words on the tip of his tongue, but he swallows them down, because Josh looks exhausted and they both could really use a nice night of uninterrupted sleep. He pulls the blankets back, and Josh groans in annoyance, before the empty spot next to him is replaced by Tyler in his entirety. He shuffles around, forcing himself into occupying the space, and Josh practically purrs in his happiness, pulling Tyler close and circling him into his cold, smoke-scented embrace.

Tyler fights the urge to move backwards because Josh’s skin is _freezing_ ; instead, he places a hand on his hip under his shirt and rubs soothing circles there with his fingertips, nestling his head underneath Josh’s chin as he tries his best to maneuver their legs together in some comfortable way.

“Love you,” Josh mumbles, pressing his lips to Tyler’s forehead softly, and it’s a sweet gesture, but anxiety flares up roughly in Tyler’s chest. The last time they’d spoken face-to-face had been the previous week when Josh had rushed away not long after retrieving his mud-stained hat, cheeks painted pink and lips swollen red, all on Tyler’s account. They hadn’t really discussed what had happened because Tyler was too afraid to text or call him, and it seemed that Josh held the same fear – the _kissing_ , and _everything_ , which had left Tyler with way too much time to over think their entire friendship or relationship or _whatever_ they were – because they’d both been unwilling to say anything, to risk the chance of ruining the friendship they’d worked so hard to make and maintain.

Tyler would be lying if he said he didn’t love his best friend, and those three words weren’t unspoken before between them, but under the circumstances, he doesn’t know what to make of it. He’s been silent for a little too long, and Josh is more awake than he had been a few seconds ago, pulling away. His fingers are still resting on Tyler’s waist, a ghost against his skin, aware of the fact that he probably shouldn’t have said what he did – the empty air crackles between them, tension so thick and palpable in the air it would’ve been possible to cut with a knife. Josh clears his throat, and Tyler thinks he can almost feel the gears turning in his head, trying to piece together an explanation or an apology. Nothing is said, however, and Josh’s fingertips are still there, burning their prints into his skin. Tyler hasn’t moved away, stuck in the same state, hand still wrapped firmly around Josh’s hip, and for whatever reason, he giggles, silence effectively shattered.

“What’s so funny?” Josh asks, voice barely above a whisper, his brow furrowing. Tyler can make out the faint traces of the outline of his face, wide, scared eyes meeting his – he shifts closer, moving his hand from Josh’s hip to splay across his cheek, sliding his thumb comfortingly across his skin, before gently kissing him. It takes him a second before he elicits any response, mouths moving together like clockwork, bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces; this time around, their kisses lack the urgency that had been there the first time, slow and gentle and close-mouthed and sweet, Josh’s arms winding their way around Tyler’s waist once again.

Josh moves away first, and Tyler relents, resting his head on his pillow, eyes still trained on the other’s face. Josh mirrors his actions and meets his gaze, Tyler still wrapped up and held in his gentle, affectionate embrace, the same shadowy smiles on both of their faces.

An unbroken quietness falls over them both, comfortable and drowsy. Josh’s eyelids flutter closed, only to blink open mere seconds later when Tyler’s timid voice whispers, “Did you mean it?”

He doesn’t really know what _it_ is, and he stares at Tyler questioningly, but an explanation is essentially void as the understanding begins to sink in. Yes, he definitely meant what he said, but he’s hesitant to say so, the fear of ruining everything they’d built up settling heavy in his stomach; his breath catches in his throat, and Tyler’s gaze flickers away, unable to keep eye contact as he’s suddenly self-conscious in Josh’s grasp.

“It’s okay if you didn’t.” Tyler’s voice is as soft and as small as he looks and feels under Josh’s hands, and he shrinks away, leaving the other feeling hollow and empty and alone even though Tyler is _there_ less than three feet away. “I understand.”

“Hey, wait,” Josh stumbles over his words, mind running a mile a minute, too fast for his mouth to process, but he doesn’t reach out because he’s afraid of the brokenness he sees in Tyler’s eyes, afraid of unintentionally hurting him even further. “I meant it.”

Tyler stays in place, unable to move. He’s waiting for something, but for what, he’s not exactly sure – maybe laughter, Josh getting up and pointing at him, cracking a joke at his expense, proud of himself for stringing Tyler along so far. His eyes are wide, disbelieving, but the laughter never comes, and Josh never moves, his body tense and his mind unwilling to try and touch Tyler.

“I meant it,” Josh repeats, a jagged sigh, rolling onto his back to avoid the emotions he sees mirrored in the other’s eyes by staring at the ceiling. He doesn’t even know who he’s trying to convince, at this point, because doubt is slowly covering him and seeping into the seams of his mind, smothering him slowly in a thick cloud of grief and desperation. He doesn’t want to lose Tyler, and he’s so damned scared that he’s really gone and screwed everything up; god, he needs Tyler in his life like he needs air and water and sunshine and laughter and light, and maybe that’s a little unhealthy, but he’s beyond past the point of trying to care about consequences. Fuck it all, he loves Tyler Joseph with everything he has in him.

He had to have felt some sort of semblance of the same emotion, right? He had to, or he wouldn’t have wasted all that time and energy in kissing Josh back, confusing them both. There had to be something there, underlying the surface, waiting to be called to action. Maybe Tyler felt it, too, that soft tugging within him, because he pushes himself up off of the mattress and shuffles himself around until he’s settled, hovering over Josh, hands planted on either side of his head, staring down at him with a bright, beaming smile on his face.

“I love you, too,” he breathes, and Josh can’t fight his own smile, all teeth and the crinkles at the edges of his eyes that Tyler loves to look at – he leans in, and Josh meets him halfway, colliding into a kiss rougher than the last, their teeth clacking together at the intensity. Tyler giggles something gentle and soft, and Josh laughs heavily against his lips until they’re a mess of tangled limbs and parted mouths, quick and fast and deep all at once. Josh is the sun and the brightness of a mid-morning sky, the smell of roses in a garden and walks through the forest as the birds fly far above his head, and Tyler is the moon, the shimmer of the stars and the grey color of the clouds right before the rain, but it’s all them, and it _works_. They work because it’s them, undeniably and beautifully, two pieces of a perfect puzzle working together to help repair what is broken and lost.

**Author's Note:**

> @blurryfced / tumblr  
> 


End file.
